A wolf exploded out of the night.
Leah reared sideways so abruptly she almost lost her footing, only a column she smacked into keeping her upright. She tried to cry out, but her throat constricted and all she could manage was a gasp.
The wolf receded back into the wall. It took her a moment to realize it was just a fucking painting. Her hand flew to her fast-beating heart, a soft laugh leaving her lips. The drugs were fucking with her head.
Leah took a few shaky breaths and picked up her pace.
Tap, tap, tapechoed against the thick underground of the bridge. Heavy footfalls, more than one.
Her heart kicked up again. She spun back and stared under the deep shadows of the bridge. It was too dark to see anything past a few feet in front of her. She’d never had trouble on the streets before, she reminded herself, never had anything bad happen to her there. At home, behind closed doors was where the danger always lurked.
Which reminded her—she really needed to get home to her children. They were safe at home—she made sure no one had ever hurt them—but they might be worried about her. She smiled at the image of Billy’s hazel eyes lighting up when she walked into the house. How he’d always ask her if she’d bought him chocolate. She patted the chocolate in her pocket.
Two silhouettes stood directly in front of her.
She halted abruptly and blinked.
“Where are you going, girl?” one of the men asked.
Leah squinted. She could barely make out his face, but his eyes were cold and dark as coal, there was a blade tattooed on his neck, and worse, there was a menace in his tone that stirred dread within her.
Leah stumbled backwards and into someone’s hard chest.
“Careful,” he breathed, reeking of the acidy scent of stale wine that burned over the side of her face. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Her heart pounded and her throat dried. “I have to get home to my kids.” To her dismay, her voice sounded like a kitten whining.
“How about a blow job first?” the one in the front said.
“Fuck off,” Leah responded, pleased her voice sounded strong this time.
The one from behind grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She didn’t have time to think about the pain tearing through her scalp because he kicked the back of her knee. Herlegs collapsed, agony exploding up her legs as her knees cracked on the pavement.
“I think he said he wants a blow job, whore.”
She scanned wildly, desperately seeking help. There was an old man by the edge of the bridge wrapped in a threadbare blanket, looking at her. He’d help her, he’d call the police or shout, and the men would let her go. He dropped his head to the ground and shuffled away.
No one else was looking, or if they did notice they didn’t care. No one had ever cared, not for her. Not once as she sobbed and pleaded for help had anyone come and saved her.
The wind rattled under the eaves of the bridge and began to whine, a prelude to something sinister. She knew then, she knew; that voice was screaming.
Leah tried to scramble to her feet, but the grip on her hair was too strong. She tried to scream, but the sound was drowned against the rough palm of a hand slapping across her mouth. The hand yanked on her mouth, the other clutched her jacket, and now she was on her back being dragged deeper into the depths of the bridge, her skin being flayed by the pavement. Her scalp felt like it was being ripped off her head. She grappled for his hand, trying to pull it free. She kicked and only struck air. Shadows moved around her. Hands yanked at her jeans and pulled them down.
She stopped fighting abruptly, her fear overwhelmed by defeat. She had learned long ago that fighting only made it worse. Her body numbed. Her mind numbed. She turned her head to the side, staring at the wolf on the brick wall.Don’t cry, she repeated to herself over and over,only babies cry, and if you cry, he’ll give you something more to cry about. Pain shot like a knife’s blade through her as the first one slammed into her. Her ears were slapped with panting and grunting. A sob caught inher throat and fell out of her mouth, but she was glad when the sound was lost in the whining of the wind.
It only took a few minutes. The second guy grunted, and his warm seed spilled inside her. He sat up above her, his knees pressed to her waist, panting. They would let her go now because she didn’t see their faces, because she was just another drugged-up whore. The police wouldn’t care about it even if she told them.
She could feel his eyes burning through her, but she kept her head to the side, staring at the wolf.Don’t look and he will leave. Don’t look and he might not want more.She heard a rustle of fabric; out of the corner of her eye, she caught the glint of a silvery blade.
Her head twisted back. “No,” she rasped. “Please, I won’t tell, I won’t tell.”
“Do it,” the other one said, his eyes darting around, making sure no one could see them.
“Please, no. I have children I have to look after. I won’t tell, I won’t tell.”
The boy had a shaved head, a square jaw, and a blood-red tear on his cheek. “Oh, sweetheart.” He ran his calloused knuckles down her cheek gently, sending a bolt of terror through her. “I know you won’t.”
Fight, the voice whispered.
